


Coming Home

by ladyblogger



Category: Stucky - Fandom, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: M/M, Reunion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-21
Updated: 2014-05-21
Packaged: 2018-01-25 22:54:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1665518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyblogger/pseuds/ladyblogger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Winter Soldier knows the man on the bridge, but he doesn't know how. After the fall of Hydra he looks for answers</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coming Home

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on artwork by tumblr user katinca 
> 
> http://katinca.tumblr.com/post/83470286618/coming-home

“I’m with you until the end of the line”- those words were seared into his brain, ringing through his ears. He brushed his still damp hair out of his eyes as he crept along the shore, away from the body he dragged out of the water. Why those words were haunting him, he didn’t know; he couldn’t know.

The next morning he was jolted awake by those words and a flash of an old city block. He was sweating when he sat up in the back of the car he had hotwired the previous night. No one noticed him do it. Last night while driving on back roads he had heard the fate of Hydra, and Pierce, over the radio- after that he had to put on music; music was a better distraction from thinking. He looked down at his left hand, flexing and straightening the fingers. He was free now, but free to do what? He ran the fingers of his right hand through his hair as he slipped back into the driver’s seat. He hadn’t been asleep long, it was still dark outside, but he felt restless, he needed to go somewhere, do something.

He kept his head down but he still felt conspicuous. He grabbed an old hat out the back of an old pickup truck, no one noticed him do it. The hat kept the hair off his face and some pieces curled behind his ears. The old jacket he wore kept his left arm concealed; he had both hands stuffed in his pockets. He eased through security by claiming a disability due to his “prosthesis”. He wandered around the museum, slipping through the crowd like smoke through cracks, like water between fingers. He approached the entrance to the exhibit he saw advertised in the subway yesterday; Captain America and his Howling Commandos. Captain America, Steve Rogers, had called him, “James Buchanan Barnes” and he had called him “Bucky”. Who the hell Bucky was, he still didn’t know, but it was his only lead and he followed it here. He passed through most of the exhibit quickly, not paying much attention. His focus was more on the people around him, he looked grimier than them, and less put together, he felt he stuck out a bit. His eyes were darting back and forth in rapid secession. That’s when he saw it. Most of the display was a large head shot of a man, a man who was undoubtedly him. It would be impossible for anyone else to be that man in the photograph. His breath got caught in his throat and his heart began to race. From the outside he looked calm and resolved, and while he wasn’t exactly calm, he was resolved; he was going to figure out what the fuck happened and who the fuck he was. He spun on his heels and almost bumped into a small blonde boy wearing a bright blue shirt with a picture of Captain America’s shield on it. He was about to just walk past him when he noticed the look on the young boy’s face as his eyes darted from the display back to the man in front of him. The man just put his finger to his lip in a “sh” motion to which the boy nodded and let his mother steer him away. The man gave his head a small shake and left the exhibit, left the museum.

He came back the next day and looked around the entire exhibit, only looked, only briefly. He left again with his heart and mind racing. When he left, no one noticed him go, and no one noticed him shoplift a bottle of aspirin. That night, no one noticed him take more than the recommended dosage to try and dull the pain and mute the thoughts pounding through his head.  
The next day he went back to the Smithsonian. He spent the entire day this time. He dulled the voices in his head by repeating a mantra; “This is your mission”. James Buchanan Barnes was not him; James Buchanan Barnes was his next mission. He no longer had an organization behind him preparing his assignments for him; he had to do his own research now. No one noticed him cataloguing Intel on his next mission.  
He returned one more time the next day. No one noticed him because no one was there. The museum wasn’t open yet so the halls were quiet and the lights were dim. He walked slowly with his head high, he didn’t need to hide here because he was totally and completely alone. He read the display about Bucky Barnes, and watched the film of Captain America and his very best friend smiling and laughing together one last time. There was a strange weight in his stomach and a pain behind his eyes as he left the building for the last time.

***

One month later he found himself in the bedroom of a frail old woman. Something about her made him feel weak and his usual confident stance fell in favour of a posture much more collapsed in on himself. He was warned that her memory was nearly gone and she likely could be no help to him. He accepted the terms and thought he’d make the best of it. He sat alone next to her bed, waiting for her to wake up on her own time. On the table beside her bed, beside all the bottles of medication, was an assortment of photo frames. Most of them were of small children and families, but there was one that was different. He recognized the picture immediately, he’d seen similar ones at the Smithsonian; it was Steve Rogers before he was experimented on. At the sight of the picture an unexplainable sense of shame, guilt, and pain washed over him. Despite that, he picked it up. He used his right hand, keeping the left one stuffed in his pocket, and he just stared at the photo. He couldn’t tear his eyes away until a soft pained voice came from the bed, “Oh Lord, you came back too?” The old woman was awake now, and despite the shock that was clear on her face, somehow she remained poised. He just looked at her, there was a warmth growing in his chest, a strange sense of, well, familiarity, he hadn’t felt anything like that since the bridge, but this was just a fraction of that. “He used to say, that even when he had nothing, he had you. I never really believed that. I always thought that he couldn’t have nothing if he had you,” she said, her smile small, but genuine. She began to cough and turned her head away from him to catch her breath. He was frozen, he felt a strong desire to help her, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it; he couldn’t remember ever helping someone before. When she turned her head back she looked confused; “Are you the new nurse? I heard there was going to be a new nurse”. He shook his head and she apologized. He shook his head again and left. No one noticed him leave.  
***  
Six months later he was in a tiny café in Canada with his head buried in all of SHIELDs online files. Most of the attention from that scandal had already blown over. The world moved fast, and moved on faster these days. He had already spent the last few months wading through all the information that Black Widow had released. Things probably would have gone faster if he could have stayed in one place longer, but it wasn’t worth the risk. No one had ever noticed him, but he wanted to be prepared just in case. There were some serious people looking for him, and so was Steve Rogers. At the café today, no one noticed him. He was reading a transcript of a meeting between Colonel Phillips and Dr. Arnim Zola; “Colonel Phillips: And the last guy you cost us was Captain Roger’s closest friend”. He stopped there and just stared at those four little words on that tiny little screen in that tiny little café in that tiny little town, “Captain Roger’s closest friend”. That was the day he decided to stop looking into who Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes were all those years ago; all he needed to know was in those four little words.

That night he found a man willing to get him into Russia; now it was time to find out who the Winter Soldier was. No one noticed him leave.

***

Over the past 6 months he uncovered the truth about who the Winter Soldier had been over the past 70 years. He had tracked every procedure and every mission from the moment Bucky Barnes fell from a train and lost his left arm. He watched Captain America fight with the Avengers all over the news and internet. No one noticed he was there, no one noticed that he now knew everything. He decided a couple months ago that he needed to right all the wrongs done in his past, but he didn’t know where to start. No one noticed he wanted to be better.  
When things died down again in New York, for now at least, he found out that Steve had settled back into a small apartment in Brooklyn. The next day he found himself back State side. No one noticed him arrive.

***

A week later, wearing a plain black tshirt, he stood out front of Steve’s apartment building. No one noticed he was there. He made his way up the stairs, and no one noticed him climbing. He was at the end of Steve’s hallway, and no one noticed him standing frozen with his heart racing and his mouth dry. He stood out front of Steve’s door, no one noticed him there. No one noticed him ring the doorbell; no one except Steve who answered. Steve was wearing a blue hoodie and a shocked expression when he saw him just standing there; he couldn’t look up to meet Steve’s eyes. His right hand was clasped around the cold metal of his left upper arm. He knew that Steve knew most, if not all, of the horrible things he had done. He thought maybe he shouldn’t have come after all. Steve was Captain America, the poster boy for righteousness and greatness, and he was nothing but a monster. When those thoughts were racing through his mind and eating at his heart, Steve threw his arms around him. His arms dropped to his sides, he could feel the wild and surprised look on his face. When Steve didn’t let go, he relaxed his arms and his body and returned the hug, leaning back into Steve’s embrace. He closed his eyes and buried his face in the warmth of Steve’s shoulder.

There was a blast of terrible pop music from an apartment on the floor above which jolted him out of Steve’s hug. He snuck a glance back at the blonde man staring back at him and received an absolutely beaming smile back, “Do you want to come in, I was just about to make a cup of coffee if you still drink that,” He joked throwing one arm over his shoulder as he started to lead him inside.

“You, you want me to come in?” He stammered, surprised.

“Of course I do, like I said Buck, I’m with ya until the end of the line”.


End file.
